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Masha was anxious about meeting her son’s fiancée — he had kept her hidden for far too long. Before, he hadn’t managed to bring a girl home without rushing introductions: “Mom, Dad, meet my Tanya (or Lena, or Marina — after a while, Masha stopped keeping track).” Even when he left town to study, weekends meant arriving with a new girlfriend. Masha would scold him, laugh, and wonder who he took after — she and Borya had been friends since tenth grade and had built their lives together.
But now, he’d disappeared. Only his father knew he’d met a girl he truly intended to marry. They asked repeatedly when Vasya would bring her home, but he kept postponing.
“Is she boring or what?” Borya joked. “Why hide her?”
“He knows we won’t like her,” Masha guessed.
She was right. When a tall, poised girl with a neat short haircut stepped out of the car, Masha and Borya exchanged looks and sighed — she seemed a good girl, modest, dignified, nothing like the flashy girls of today. Then the son popped out of the driver’s seat, dashed to open the other front door — and out came a tiny girl in ten-centimeter stilettos and a short scarlet dress. His gaze glazed over as he looked at her, and Masha gave her husband a sharp look when he elbowed her desperately.
“Mom, Dad, meet Oksana.”
The girl glanced disdainfully at Masha’s robe, swept her eyes over the house Borya had built, and said lazily:
“Well, not bad digs you have here.”
The second girl was Varya, Oksana’s friend, brought along so she wouldn’t be bored. Masha overheard Borya hinting to Vasya that he’d chosen poorly, but Vasya just smiled:
“Oksana’s beautiful, isn’t she? I don’t know why she even loves me!”
Vasya didn’t catch the hint. What could be done — he’d chosen, so they’d have to live with it.
During the week they stayed, Masha tried to please the girls — cooking delicious meals, keeping quiet while they slept in mornings, resisting criticism even when tempted. Varya was fine, washing her own dishes and volunteering to help. But Oksana acted like she was on vacation — expecting everything done for her and never lifting a finger. Before leaving, she said:
“I had such a good rest!”
They next saw Oksana a month later — this time with her mother, to discuss the wedding.
Oksana’s mother was short and thin, with an expressive face and long, unkempt hair. Shots were downed rapidly, and Borya nudged Masha under the table — this matchmaker was worse than Oksana, who hadn’t even touched alcohol.
“Is she pregnant?” Borya whispered. “How can she sit through this without drinking?”
“If she is, that’s good,” Masha said. “I’ve always dreamed of grandchildren.”
At last, business began. The matchmaker slurred:
“You’ve got the goods, we’ve got the buyer — or was it the other way? You get me. Oksana’s a catch, so many suitors! But I’m not paying for a thing! Your son’s got quite the wife coming. I’ll make her dress — I’m a seamstress! Even dressed Pugacheva once! Shoes too. But the banquet’s on you.”
Masha and Borya exchanged looks.
“Well, if it’s on us, it’s on us,” Borya grunted.
Oksana, quieter than usual, mumbled:
“We don’t want a banquet. Just register and go to Turkey.”
The matchmaker scowled:
“How can it be without a banquet? What will I tell people?”
Masha smoothed things over:
“Of course, let the kids relax in Turkey! Nobody does those banquets anymore.”
She hoped for gratitude, but Oksana just curled her lips.
“Well then, the groom should pay for Turkey,” the matchmaker grumbled. “By the way, I’ve already started sewing the dress…”
Masha sensed the strained mother-daughter relationship and spent the weekend on edge. The matchmaker left satisfied, promising to visit again, but Oksana frowned and quarreled with Vasya, upsetting him. Something told Masha this wasn’t the end.
The couple married and flew off immediately. Only close friends and relatives attended the registry. The matchmaker arrived tipsy, drinking champagne and nearly fighting with a security guard over more. Oksana got drunk, and Masha comforted her as “daughter,” but Oksana snapped:
“What daughter? I have a mother who’s an alcoholic. And if you wanted a daughter, you should have had one yourself!”
Masha’s two stillborn daughters lay in graves — the words burned her like hot iron. She held back tears but felt heavy inside. The day before the wedding, Vasya said:
“We’re moving to the village. Oksana’s health is weak; she needs fresh air. Besides, we want the kids to grow up in nature, not concrete boxes.”
If Vasya had chosen anyone else, Masha would have been happy. But with Oksana — she wasn’t sure. Borya clutched his heart.
“She’ll drive us crazy, Marusya, she’s got her eye on the house, you’ll see!”
Borya had built the house and was proud. Oksana liked it immediately, especially the spacious room with a terrace — Masha and Borya’s bedroom.
“What about your job?” Masha asked.
Vasya, a gold medalist, had graduated with a good position.
“We’ll see. I’ll commute. Maybe stay in the city sometimes, but mostly weekends at home.”
“And what will Oksana do?”
Vasya’s eyes gleamed.
“Mom, Oksana told everyone to keep it quiet, but we’re expecting — two months along. She’ll have plenty to do. She’s talented — picks things up fast!”
They gave the couple Vasya’s room, repaired it, put up new wallpaper. But living together wasn’t easy. Vasya grew tired commuting, and when in the city, Oksana nagged about when he’d return. Masha felt sorry for him — four hours on the road was no life. She didn’t say anything to Oksana — the pregnancy was difficult, and Oksana refused hospital stay. Around the house, she did nothing, just read books.
Before the birth, Vasya asked his mother, eyes lowered:
“Mom, maybe you could give us your room? The baby’s coming; it’ll be cramped.”
He didn’t say it was Oksana’s idea, but Masha understood. Borya objected — their room was spacious — but Masha persuaded him to avoid quarrels.
“I told you,” Borya said, “she’ll drive us out.”
Ilyusha was born a month premature, stayed long in intensive care. Vasya was beside himself. When Oksana was discharged with the baby, things didn’t improve — Ilyusha cried constantly, and Oksana refused help.
“For some reason,” Masha thought, “she won’t dump the baby on us.” Indeed, Oksana was the kind of mother who never let the child out of sight.
“Rest a little!” Masha begged. “Let me hold Ilyusha while you sleep!”
“Leave me alone!” Oksana shouted. “A child needs a mother, not a grandmother!”
Oksana soon demanded a separate house. Borya was wrong — she didn’t want their house but to leave the city. Why, no one knew. She quarreled with her mother on the phone, forbidding her visits.
Then Vasya was fired. Something happened; he refused to explain. Only Borya got out that Vasya refused shady deals.
The couple argued. Masha clutched her heart; Borya secretly took a brandy, earning a scolding. Then he had an idea.
“Let’s work shifts with Vasya. I earned well before, built this house. I’ll call Nikolaevich; maybe he’ll take us both. When we return, we’ll build a house for the couple.”
Masha disliked the plan, but Vasya was eager to prove he could provide.
“You’ll miss important moments!” Masha objected. “First words, steps — he won’t even know you!”
“Mom, what can we do? I have loans — for the trip, the car. I can’t handle it. The money’s good.”
She told Borya everything. He admitted it was “men’s business.”
Masha hoped she and Oksana could get along without the men, but no — Oksana was always in her son’s room or on the phone. She refused help, saying she knew how to live.
Masha pieced together Oksana’s life — mostly calls with Varya, Vasya in the evenings, and tense talks with her mother. Once, Oksana shouted after a call:
“Why do you always ruin my life! Don’t call me again!”
Oksana locked herself in her room, crying, baby asleep beside her. Masha asked:
“What happened?”
“My mom broke her leg.”
“How? When?”
“How would I know!” Oksana shouted, waking Ilyusha. “She did it on purpose! She wants me stuck caring for her while drinking vodka. And how can I take Ilyusha there? Our windows are wooden; she never let me tape them, says she needs fresh air! If only she drank less…”
The decision came quickly.
“I’ll go.”
Oksana stopped crying.
“How come?”
“Well, I don’t know how you’ll manage alone here. You have to tend the stove and animals. If you can manage, I’ll go.”
Masha realized she’d said something foolish — how could a city girl manage in winter? But Oksana said:
“It’s nothing. I lived with my grandmother in the village until I was ten while my mother tried fixing her life. She tried in vain; he still left. Then she drank…”
Oksana fell silent, disapproving.
Zoya agreed to milk the cow and help — it’s hard alone with a baby, she knew. Masha was calm knowing Oksana was supervised. Oksana followed Masha with a notebook, writing down every instruction, especially about the rare flowers blooming on the windowsills.
The matchmaker complained her daughter wouldn’t care for her, but Masha cut her off, pointing out the filth and drafts.
“Do you want to bring our grandson here? That’s not right.”
Masha loved order. Soon the matchmaker’s apartment sparkled. Windows taped with painter’s tape; no new bottles allowed. She arranged neighbors to help for money.
Two weeks passed. Oksana called daily, asking about pots, cleaning, watering flowers. She didn’t ask about her mother, but Masha updated her and even passed the phone to the matchmaker to talk soberly — they still argued.
Only the toilet leaked, dripping at night. Masha called a plumber who fixed it quickly.
“Was this so hard earlier?” she scolded.
“No man’s hand in the house,” he said.
At home, all was well — clean, tidy, smelling of pies. Oksana looked defiantly hopeful.
“Well done! Such order. Vasya’s lucky with his wife.”
The pies were oversalted, but that didn’t matter. Orchids bloomed, as if pleased. Oksana stopped Masha:
“While you were gone, Zoya and I changed some things. We’ll live in the old room — it’s warmer.”
Oksana blushed. Masha watched her with interest.
She doted on her grandson, tasted the pies, and called Vasya and Borya with good news.
“I told you so!” Vasya beamed. “I’ve got the best wife!”
Masha was cautious — Oksana still left dirty dishes sometimes, snapped if the boy was lightly dressed. But life was better. Oksana confessed she hadn’t realized housework was so hard and that Zoya helped a lot. She talked about her mother, who humiliated her at school and with friends.
“I dreamed of a lavish wedding,” she admitted. “But feared she’d ruin it.”
Still, she spoke more often with her mother and quarreled less — that broken leg helped. But it wasn’t a leg.
“Can you believe it? Mom got herself a man!” Oksana said, eyes wide. “A local plumber. I don’t know whether to laugh or be happy.”
Masha smiled.
“Be happy. She won’t be alone.”
Oksana was quiet, then said:
“I never thought it would be so hard alone. Vasya’s been gone three months, and I’m already exhausted. My mom was always alone.”
